


Going Ghost

by Pillsbury_Dough_Boy (Ethan_Might_Die)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 5, Bullshit artifacts, Dumblewhore is headmaster, Homelessness, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Order of the Phoenix - Freeform, Past Child Abuse, Reckless Harry, Riddle is DADA professor, Smart Harry, because Riddle didn’t act like a psycho when he was littke, but that shit on chapter four, dumbledore doesn’t know Riddle is voldemort, he played it cool, i dont know if im going into detail yet, i mean dumbledore, like in passing, ljke a smart boi, lol, mentions of child abuse, more tags to come, the trash chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-01 06:05:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17238782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethan_Might_Die/pseuds/Pillsbury_Dough_Boy
Summary: After he lost Sirius, Harry is reluctant to spend any amount of time with the Dursleys. But with no change in Dumbledore, he is being forced to return.Refusing to go back, Harry obtains an Amulet that shields him from all tracking spells, Divination, Point Me’s, and other means of locating and detecting. Being homeless is better than living with the Dursleys.When he gets off the Hogwarts express, instead of going with the Dursleys, he takes a bus to central London and decides to fuck around until school starts.Now, everyone is trying to find him. Including Voldemort. Harry really didn’t think this through.





	1. Sleepy Head

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so no Beta here and I’m typing and posting this from my phone. Wow. Much class.
> 
> Anyway, Riddle is the DADA professor and Dumbledore is the headmaster but he doesn’t know Tom is Voldemort. When Dumbledore collected Tom from the orphanage all those years ago, he did not act like a psycho. He concealed his psycho and just manipulated everyone instead. His evil was hidden.   
> Tom then did everything Voldemort normally did. He killed the potters and like blew up and shit except because people couldn’t know that Tom and Volde were the same person, Mulciber planted evidence of Tom’s subtle and quiet existence during that time so nobody would suspect. Volde also came back a lot sooner than in Canon. Tom is also a political figure using his standings in teaching and terrorist alter ego to push his political agenda. And everything else happens like it does in the books except Tom is the DADA professor. Quirrell was a student who had Volde in his turban. And instead of Crouch jr putting Harry in the tournament it was Riddle the professor. And Lupin was leading Dueling club. And when Umbridge came she replaced Riddle temporarily and he allowed this to keep up appearances.
> 
> Holy fuck writing on my phone is annoying as shit.

Sunlight slowly crept through his window, along the floor, and up his bed to rest across his closed eyes. He shifted in discomfort, unwilling to let the day squander his slumber. Because if he stayed in bed and he stayed asleep then he could hold reality off a little longer.

“Oi Harry! Come on mate it’s breakfast!”

Well fucking nevermind then.

Harry forced his eyes open to glare at his dorm mate. Ron, all long limbs and freckles, was standing over his bed. His eager grin replaced with a sheepish one.

“I uh just thought you wanted to eat?” Ron stammered. Sometimes he forgets how grumpy his friend could be in the morning.

Harry let out a dramatic sigh before reluctantly getting out of bed. The cold from the floor stung his nerves awake upon contact with his feet. He quickly changed and met Ron in the common room where they both exited through the portrait hole.

On their way to the great hall they ran into Hermione swaying on her feet under an enormous stack of books. The two rushed to her side and grabbed several from the top.

“Thanks guys,” said Hermione with a slight pant.

“Why you got all these anyway? Haven’t you read every book in the library already?” Ron’s poor attempt at a joke fell flat as Harry was too tired and Hermione bristled.

The witch ignored the red head opting to turn her attention to Harry. He looked disgruntled to say the least. With bags hanging from sleep addled eyes, messy hair clearly of no attempt to fix, and wrinkly robes.

“What?” He snapped. Shooting her his second glare this morning. Harry loved the buck toothed, bushy haired witch but Merlin she could be judgmental and he was so not having it this morning.

He just wanted to sleep some more.

Hermione looked taken aback but closed her gaping mouth and moved on. Not too disturbed at his behavior.

“I found everything I could on the trace, Ministry punishment, underage wizarding law, accidental magic, and wizarding villages, transportation, and street etiquette.”  
Hermione forced the words from her mouth with little breath to spare.

“Why do you need to know about all that? Not on our exams is it?” Ron looked imploringly between the two.

Hermione ignored him again. “But, I couldn’t find anything on specifically beating the trace but there is one interesting book about vanishing.” The witch eagerly scanned the spines of the books in her arms, face lighting up when she found what she was looking for. “Aha! This one!”

Harry squinted at the words pointed out by her finger. Her nails were dirtier than he thought they’d be.

_Hidden_

“Why does he need to know how to hide? He’s got an invisibility cloak!” Ron nodded his head at Harry. The redhead’s hands twitched as if he almost used his hands to direct attention to his friend. Thankfully he subdued himself before he dropped the old tomes. Hermione would’ve flipped.

Harry eyed the witch, recognizing the lack of sleep she was getting. Frankly, she looked no better than he did. Research for him was taking its toll on her. Suddenly, guilt wrapped around Harry’s throat and he softened his facial expression.

“Thanks Hermione,” he said with a soft smile. She visibly brightened.

Harry could be a dick sometimes but she still loved him. She always appreciated it when he gave praise. Even subtly.

A group of kids bickering about breakfast foods passed them in a hurry to get to the Great Hall. Ron watched them go with a mournful expression. He may not know exactly what was going down but he did know breakfast wasn’t a part of it.

“Why don’t we take this to the Common Room?” Harry eyed the other students with suspicion. Any of them could be listening. He couldn’t afford to let this get out. Ever.

Hermione nodded and nudged Ron with her foot to follow Harry who had already turned away.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Harry is beyond annoyed. Irritated. Aggravated. Exacerbated. Infuriated.

Fucking hell.

At this point, too many people are getting involved in the plan. Too many people know what’s going on. Too many people know what he’s going to do.

They could rat on him.

Hermione especially.

Of course he lied to her. She doesn’t really know what’s going on. She can’t know the truth. She’d rat and preach some bullshit about doing the responsible thing.

Well Harry has been feeling his gryffindor lately and could not physically give less of a shit if he tried. He is done. Fucking done.

He sold Ron the same story he did Hermione. They’re both in the dark.

Harry loves his friends. Really, he does. He just knows they can’t be trusted with this. Hermione would tell Dumbledore and Ron can’t tell a lie. He turns red when he tries.

Luckily, Harry can lie well enough for the both of them. With Hermione helping him do research, his plan can trudge along.

“So we need to find out how kick the trace…” Ron said slowly, trying to makes sense of what we’re telling him.

“Yes,” answered Hermione.

“To do magic outside of Hogwarts…”

“Uh-huh.” Harry said in a monotone. He was trying to read this paragraph on magical artifacts to distort your appearance.

“Incase we’re attacked like with the dementors and Harry.” Ron finished and stared out the window.

“Exactly.” Hermione adjusted her focus to another book with a ratty purple colour. The lettering on the spine had all but faded. He looked back down to his page.

_The Amulet of name long lost was created thousands of years ago by a Sorcerer with a penchant for shadows. It allows the wearer to not be tracked or traced through magical means, specifically Divination though its powers do extend to other branches. The Amulet can distort your appearance or make it difficult to stare directly at you at the request of the wearer._

_Unfortunately, the artifact has not been seen in centuries. Many speculate it has been destroyed or obtained by a Dark wizard. Some fear He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named stole it long ago to hide from the Order._

Harry scrunched up his nose. Hermione and Ron were bickering across the table about dog-earing the pages of library books.

He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named…

Harry couldn’t help the shiver going down his spine. Voldemort. The monster that killed his parents. The monster that tried to kill him. The monster that is still trying to kill him.

The man responsible for killing Sirius.

Barely formed fear dissipated to be replaced with anger. His last shot at a family was snatched from him. Stolen. He’d been cheated. And it was all his fault. It’s his fault he doesn’t have loving parents. It’s his fault he’s been forced to live with the Dursleys for years. It’s his fault he’s about to be homeless in a week.

Homeless.

That’s not quite right. He won’t be homeless. Hogwarts will always be his one true home. Harry will just be house-less. He’ll be living on the streets.

Brilliant.

“Hey Harry.” Hermione pointed to a paragraph at the bottom of her page. He hadn’t noticed her and Ron stopped talking. The witch directed his attention to a spell. An old spell. But Harry wasn’t listening anymore as she rambled.

His thoughts were with Voldemort. He’ll be hiding not only from Dumbledore and the rest of the order but, the Dark Lord and his followers as well. It’s unclear whether the Ministry will be searching for him. Godric, he hopes not. There will be enough as is.

This Amulet though, could solve all his problems. He could hide and use magic and not be tracked.

Maybe.

It’s worth looking into.

Maybe he needs help.

Actual help.

From people who won’t snitch and thrive in rebellion.

It seems an owl to the twins is in order.


	2. Bruises of your Fingertips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry is like low key gay but ain’t got time to deal with pieces of shit like Tom Riddle.

It’s only been a few hours and panic is starting to set in. What if it’s intercepted? Thankfully Harry didn’t put everything incriminating in the letter but surely the time and place for a floo call is enough for a tap. Do wizards do that? Tap floo calls? Maybe it’s just Muggles. What if they told Dumbledore? Or one of the other Weasleys? What if they refuse to help?

The only chance Harry has at getting his hands on that damn Amulet lies with the twins. Fuck they need to answer his letter as soon as possible.

“Mr. Potter,” came a stern voice from the front of the class. Harry whipped his head up so fast he winced from the new pinch in his neck. Everyone was looking at him. Hermione shot him a nervous glance while Ron was wincing right alongside him. Literally. Ron was sitting next to him wincing. Whether from second-hand embarrassment or the glaring professor is unclear.

He could hear Draco stifle a chuckle in his hand as well as the other Slytherins.

“Mr. Potter.” Fuck it. Harry slowly dragged his eyes away from his classmates to meet his professor’s. Snape’s frown deepened and his gaze sharpened. Harry allowed a lazy smile to spread across his face in a pleasantly smug expression.

“You called Professor Snape?” Now normally Harry would not be acting this recklessly if his head wasn’t focused on everything but his well-being.

The greasy haired git sneered before announcing a point dock from Gryffindor. The classmates of his who weren’t exasperated at his behavior found immense humor in the situation. Slytherins and Gryffindors alike.

After Potions though, Hermione assaulted him in the hallway which he gracefully escaped by running down the hallway after pushing Dean Thomas into her.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“You need to pay more attention in class Harry.” Hermione had found him. Which wasn’t a surprise as they shared classes. But her jumping on him from behind was. He almost hexed her.

“I know ‘mione,” mumbled Harry. He was zoning out again but he couldn’t help it. He sent the owl to the twins before Transfiguration and like three classes plus a lunch later he has yet to check for Hedwig. He’ll have to do it after DADA. Well he doesn’t have to wait, he knows all the material but he sort of enjoys this class. Emphasis on the sort of.

Maybe he would enjoy it more if his professor wasn’t such a reincarnation of Helga Hufflepuff’s saggy left tit. Riddle hates Potter and the feeling is reciprocated. Ever since first year, they’ve butt heads. On literally everything. They’ve never managed to be civil. Harry probably has had at least two-hundred detentions with the man since he first started at Hogwarts.

Of course Harry is still very glad Professor Riddle returned. Earlier in the year as Umbridge was the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, she also acted as the DADA teacher. Apparently the ministry didn’t see Professor Riddle fit in the position. So instead the man just roamed the halls at night snapping at students out of bed. Or existing anywhere actually. It’s a known fact he screamed at several students in their own dorm rooms.

Why was he in their dorm rooms? Nobody knows! It’s a mystery. You could say it’s a riddle.

Harry wants to kill himself sometimes.

Anyway, after Umbitch was dragged away by centaurs, Riddle returned. Though he hated his DADA Professor with everything he had, he just might learn something before the year is over.

Harry and Ron sat in the back. The farther from Riddle the better. Hermione, on the other hand, sat at the very front. She liked watching Riddle up close. Most of the girls wanted to snog the man. A few of the boys too. Harry would rather stick his dick in an anthill than accidentally graze Riddle’s fingers. But he couldn’t argue the man was attractive.

The man in question fell into lecture the second his class was seated. This lesson was apparently about Vampires. It was interesting to say the least but Harry couldn’t help but overhear a few girls giggling about how ‘sexy’ a vampire boyfriend would be. Fucking mental.

Of course the peace could not be sustained. Poor Harry.

“Mr. Potter can you tell me how many teeth a Vampire has?” Riddle’s voice was smooth and deep like dark chocolate. Harry met his steady gaze, admiring how the light reflected off his brown eyes. Yet it was difficult to contain a sneer when he felt a subtle prodding.

Riddle was a master at Legilimency. Harry knows this because Riddle and Snape gave him Occlumency lessons. He used to be shit and probably would have stayed that way. He improved after the battle. After Siri-

After.

Too little too late.

Now Harry isn’t half bad at deflecting people. But he’s better at directing people. So he let’s Riddle past his mental shields without allowing him to recognize Harry granted permission. Then, the boy manipulated the memories Riddle viewed. Harry doesn’t doubt his Professor could tear his mind apart and find every secret. But to do that, he’d have to stop being so subtle. Riddle isn’t going to do that. At least, not in front of the whole class.

“Why is that important sir? I mean you only need to worry about four teeth.” Harry managed to watch his tone. Barely.

Riddle stepped forward before responding. “Harry, if I received a dollar for every time I consulted a student on gauging the importance of my lessons, I’d be poorer than,” Riddle’s eyes flicked to Ron and paused before going back to Harry’s, “well I’d be very poor.”

Everyone noticed. Everyone saw what he did with his eyes. They all understood. Ron turned beet red and looked down at the desk, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. Harry clenched his jaw and dug his fingers into his palm. He would not rise to the bait. Couldn’t afford to. It would surely earn him detention and he needed to focus on getting his shit together.

So instead of beating Riddle with the table, Harry bit his tongue and admitted defeat. Stating he didn’t know how many teeth a Vampire had and apologizing for disrespecting him. Curiously enough, Riddle frowned. Slightly. You would have had to taken a microscope to his face to notice. But Harry was good at noticing little details. Though he did have to zoom in with his eyes by squinting very inconspicuously.

Everyone noticed his squint. The inconspicuous part was sarcasm. Harry had to squint and lean forward to notice. But by the time everyone else looked in the direction he had been, it was gone. Riddle was a blank slate.

His professor, thankfully, ignored him the rest of the class. Not so thankfully, he decided to torture him after class.

Riddle had called dismissal and everyone began to file out of the classroom, eager to have dinner and free time. Harry was not so lucky.

“Mr. Potter,” drawled Riddle from the other side of the classroom. Harry was beginning to hate his last name. “Stay.” It wasn’t a question. His tone left no room for rebellion. It was cold.

Harry plopped back down onto his chair and stared at a perfect dark curl on Riddle’s forehead. He didn’t feel like dancing with his professor with legilimency and occlumency. He’ll just stare at the nice hair instead. Or maybe, if Harry was really in touch with his gay side, he’d eye the man’s pink lips or sharp jawline.

Unfortunately the gay can wait. He’s fine with the hair.

“How are you doing?”

Wait. The fuck?

Riddle stalked forward until he was in front of Harry’s desk, towering over the boy. He watched Potter with an interested gleam in his eye.

“Ah w-what?” Harry tripped over his words. Unintentionally. Okay Harry is tough as balls he’s not afraid of Riddle. Well maybe he is but only a little bit. Maybe. But this was just confusing. This “how you doin” knockoff is wrong. Riddle has never given even a negative shit for Harry.

So what was this?

“I fought at the battle Harry. I know what happened.” Oh. Oh fuck no.

Harry looked away from Riddle and began shoving his things into his bag before pushing himself off the stool and marching towards the door. Though he was intercepted on the way. Riddle gripped his shoulder and pulled backwards, forcing Harry to stumble into the man’s chest. Harry struggled but his professor held him still. Strong arms on both his sides and a chest to his back. It was like a fugly hug.

“Get the fuck off me!” Harry yelled and continued trying to move. Emphasis on the trying. Riddle was entirely too strong and entirely too close to Harry. He may hate this fucker but he is a teenager and he has needs.

“Steady Potter. I’m only concerned for your wellbeing.” Harry paused before growling and elbowing him in the stomach. Riddle tightened his grip and shoved Harry into the wall. “I asked how you were because you are my student and I care but don’t think I will hesitate in causing you harm Potter.”  
  
Harry knew finger sized bruises were going to bloom black and blue across his pale skin later. And he also knew the more he struggled the longer Riddle was going to keep him here. He needed to leave as soon as possible. One, because this is uncomfortable. Two, because it’s Riddle. And three, the twins may have responded. So Harry took a breath and calmed down.

“That’s better. Now Potter, if you need to talk, I am here. As well as other more qualified and caring professors that aren’t me. I’d prefer you speak with them. But the headmaster request I extend a hand. He thinks you look up to me in more ways than height.”

Oh Merlin please bless upon Harry the power to not grab Riddle’s wand and shove it so far up his ass it comes out his mouth. Like he would ever talk to him about anything. Ever. Especially not about Siri-Padfoot. Not happening.

And Dumbledore? Really? Fuck. Harry has to force the bile and anger back down his throat. Everytime he thinks of the old man he remembers where he sends his Golden Boy every summer.

“Can I leave now Professor?” Harry chewed the side of his cheek in waiting. He could feel Riddle shift. And holy Godric that man needs to stop moving because he’s brushing up against Harry and it’s way too close and Harry needs to remember how much he despises Riddle.

Inhale. Riddle is an asshole. Exhale. Riddle is a dick. Inhale. Riddle is an asshole. Exhale. Riddle is a dick. Repeat.

After a minute, the professor released Harry and walked back to his desk. The boy, clearly dismissed, snatched up his bag and totally did not run out the door. And even if he did run it wasn’t to get away from Riddle or his hair or eyes or jawline or lips or arms. It was to get to the owlery. He has a letter to read

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Criticize my whole fucking existence guys
> 
> Just fucking roast me alive


	3. Shithead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s pronounced SHI THEAD

_Get in bed. Go to sleep. Shithead will contact you when it’s time._

What? The green eyed boy reread the letter a few more times.

Shithead? Who the hell is shit head? Why would they write that?? What is any of this?

Merlin this is ridiculous.

Harry almost shoved the letter in his pocket before storming off. He stopped himself just in the nic of time as the letter started smoking. Harry dropped it to watch the paper go up in flames until it was nothing but ash. Which was taken by a sudden gust of wind.

Drama Queens.

“Tempus.” Ah. Dinner is almost over. If he hurried he could still make it. If he didn’t show, Hermione would kill him. He missed breakfast and ate next to nothing for lunch. Lately, Harry hasn’t been feeling this whole ‘food’ thing. There always seems to be something more important to do. Either with school work, Quidditch, Voldemort, research, or random crap that just pops up in his life. And now, with his whole plan underway, eating fell into second place on his list of priorities. Then third. Fourth. If it weren’t for Hermione he’d starve to death.

Harry blames the Dursleys. His body is so used to going without food he barely notices when he stops eating. Seamus says he’s a basket case.

Fuck Seamus.

Harry made his way out of the Owlery and to the Great Hall. Much to his relief, nobody stopped him to chat along the way. Pretty much everything about being the Boy-Who-Lived sucks but he cannot stand it when people believe they have to right to take up his time in meaningless conversation because he’s famous. He’s not better than these people. We’ll sometimes he is but that’s a rare phenomenon. It’s fucking irritating because they don’t randomly talk to non famous strangers on the street. They only do it to him because he’s famous. For something he can barely remember no less.

They don’t know him. They know what he’s done. They don’t know what he’s been through. They know what they hear. Gossip and rumors. Most never bother to check in with the source opting to rely on the information of the masses. Which is why Harry loves his best friends. He doesn’t always show it but they know.

Without Ron and Hermione to keep him grounded he may have become the next Dark Lord. Or a mass murdered at least. Malloy would be his first victim. Then Creevey.

Thankfully he’s not evil. Just easily annoyed.

Like right now.

Upon walking into the hall, all the students stopped eating and watched him instead. Heat crept up his face, painting his skin a harsh red. He wanted so badly to turn and leave. Fuck eating. Who needs it anyway?

But he can’t be seen as weak. After everything that’s happened, he’s not fucking weak. So instead of running, Harry ground his teeth, jutted out his chin, lifted his head, and marched to wear his two friends were eating. A few first years from Hufflepuff moved away when he past them.

Across the hall, he could hear Malfoy not so subtly whisper, “Potter’s off his bloody rocker!”

Oh how he wanted to smash his pointed face in. He might turn out to be attractive after a good beating.

Harry isn’t a bully. This would be a wandless fight because the Gryffindor could easily slaughter the Slytherin with magic. This would be a scrap. Hand to hand. Skin on skin.

That sounds like a porno.

Nevermind. He can no longer fight Malfoy if all he’s going to think about is filming a sex tape with him.

Though the walk across the hall seemed longer than 15 seconds, he made it in one piece. A millisecond after sitting down the entire table exploded in conversation. Most directed at Harry.

“What the hell mate!”

“Did you really hit him?”

“Can’t believe you attacked a professor!”

“Riddle no less!”

“Wanker ‘ad it comin’ didn’t he!”

He quickly turned to Hermione as Ron was partaking in the bombardment. “The hell is going on?” Harry had to shout just to be heard over his housemates.

Hermione shot him a look of pity before answering. As if his mood could sour anymore. He hated pity.

“They’re saying you attacked Professor Riddle after class. That you shoved him up against a wall and threatened to kill him.” If it took Harry a minute to process this information then it’s perfectly warranted. Because holy hell. His first reaction was to look up at the teacher’s table.

McGonagall was engaged in a heated conversation with Flitwick. Same with Dumbledore except with Snape. Hagrid gave him a small smile which Harry forced in return. And Sprout was throwing what looked to be brussel sprouts on Trelawney’s plate.

Riddle wasn’t there.

Riddle was always there.

He rarely ate in public but he always showed up during mealtime. If not for appearances then to loudly make fun of him with Snape.

Asshole.

“Harry?” Hermione spoke softly, as if afraid to spook him. Or anger him. “You didn’t did you?”

Harry could singe her eyebrows off if he so pleased. But that would be inappropriate. He’ll settle for ‘accidentally’ knocking over her pumpkin juice and storming out. Which he did. Much more appropriate. Unfortunately it made him look like a child.

Oh well. Blame it on his Gryffindor.

Harry didn’t stop walking until he reached the Fat Lady. He didn’t wait for her to ask. “Parsnips and Parsley and Pink Pine Pies.” Circe that’s a lot of P’s.

He clambered through the portrait hole and headed up to his dorm determined to take a shower and hide behind his bed curtains.

Attack Professor Riddle! Seriously!? When has he ever threatened to kill anyone? Never!

Well that’s not true.

You have to mean it Potter

But she’s an exception. And he had a good reason.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

_A quick rapping on his door followed by a screech yanked him from inside his head. His aunt was screaming for him to get up. To make breakfast. Try not to burn anything._

_Harry looked around his room. The stairs dropping spiders with every jump Dudley did. His ratty blanket tossed aside and his beetle infested pillow called to him. Well actually sleep called to him._

_He pushed away his urges and crawled out of the cupboard. Except this wasn’t the hallway. There was no kitchen or breakfast to make or bacon to not burn. But there was a train._

_A great big locomotive. Cherry red with black detailing. ‘Hogwarts Express’ written in gold adorned the side. A steaming bronze chimney popped out from the top of the train._

_The station was filled with children and parents bustling about. Witches and wizards. Students rushing to climb aboard and hoping to escape the teary eyed goodbye from their parents._

_Harry went to run. To grab his trunk and trusty owl. To go along with the magic flowing throughout the station. To go home._

_He couldn’t move. It was like he was frozen. Except he wasn’t. Snakes slithered from the walls and wrapped around his legs, ankles, arms, wrists, torso, and neck. Effectively holding him in place. With hisses in his ear they whispered to him. Demanded to know where he thought he was going._

_“Home! Home!” He thrashed and pulled against them, yelling at the top of his longs. “Let me go! Let me go!”_

_The snakes were relentless, refusing to give an inch. He didn’t stop trying though._

_“I’m gonna miss the train! Please just let me go! I can’t stay! I can’t stay!” Suddenly the snakes tightened their hold and shifted. No longer were they dark green serpents with blazing yellow eyes but were the hands of the headmaster. Dumbledore himself._

_“It’s for your own good. It’s not safe anymore. You must be kept safe Harry Potter.” Dumbledore squeezed his arms, caring little for his shouts and pleas. The train blew one last horn and the students ignored the last goodbyes of their parents. The Hogwarts Express trudged along the track until it sped out of sight. Taking his hope with it._

_Taking everything with it._

_“Harry.” Dumbledore grabbed his chin forcing Harry to meet his eye. The raven haired boy resisted. Keeping them tightly closed._

_“Harry.” His headmaster’s nails dug harshly into his skin. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks to mix with the blood of his chin._

_“Harry!” He thrashed harder and snapped his teeth. He growled and snarled like a caged animal. Screaming death threats and crying for freedom._

_“Harry!”_

“HARRY!”

He jolted awake and kicked out his legs to knock off whoever was on top of him. The body toppled to the floor with a loud THUMP. Harry pointedly ignored his wet cheeks and missing sheets. He grabbed his wand and pointed it at the intruder.

“It’s me man chill!” Lee Jordan stood on shaky legs with his hands in the air. Showcasing his harmlessness and lack of wand. Harry promptly lowered his and followed suit to stand.

“Shithead?” Harry raised a brow at the Weasley’s closest friend. Lee looked taken aback for a moment. Offense evident in his features.

“It’s pronounced Shi Thead, asshole! And yes I’m the courier.” Lee rummaged through his robes and pulled out a letter. “Read it and throw it in a fire. Or don’t. I don’t care. It’ll blow anyway.” Lee gave him a curt nod and a knowing smirk before waltzing out of the dorm.

Fucking Weasleys.

Harry opened and quickly skimmed its contents.

“Holy shit,” he whispered under his breath. Harry, wand in hand, dropped the smoking paper, grabbed his Invisibility cloak and map. He spared a glance to Ron who continued snoring, oblivious to not only his nightmare but the scene following.

Then he ran out the door. Because that’s what you do when the Weasley twins tell you to meet them at Madam Rosmerta’s in five minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drown me in criticism


	4. The One Where Harry is Actual Trash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's fucking trash

It was at this moment Harry wished he put on actual clothes. And socks. And shoes. Navigating the tunnel under Hogwarts to Honeydukes has never been particularly easy but it’s been tolerable. This is ridiculous though. He’s covered in dirt. Covered. His hands are sticky and his lower body is wet. Puddles. How? He doesn’t know but there are fucking puddles and now he’s wet. 

 

Thankfully, the trap door is just up ahead where he crawled through to get into the sweet shop. His nose was assaulted with sugary scents of everything he loves. He was tempted to snag a few chocolate frogs and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. 

 

But Golden Boys don’t don’t do that. So he doesn’t. He only takes one frog and shoved it deep into his pocket. 

 

Hogsmeade did not look like a Christmas card. Unless you bought a card then dropped it in muddy water. Apparently, it had rained while he was asleep. Fun.

 

Harry tightened his cloak and played hopscotch through the street to avoid any more puddles. He was mostly successful. Mostly.

 

By the time he reached Madam Rosmerta’s, everything below the belt was soaked. Completely soaked. He could really go far a warm butterbeer right about now.

 

Harry peered in through the windows in an attempt to spot the twins. They weren’t there. The whole place was dark and empty. Harry looked around the street noticing everything was dark and empty. Totally devoid of life. Almost desolate. 

 

Goosebumps erupted over his arms and the hairs on his neck stood on end. Clearly, something was amiss. He gripped his and continued to scan the area for any possible movement. He was prepared to  _ stupefy  _ or  _ bombarda _ . Hell,  _ expecto patronum  _ sat on the tip of his tongue. 

 

Prongs can’t hurt anything but a dementor but he usually caught any unsuspecting witch or wizard off guard. Most don’t expect him to cast a fully formed, corporeal Patronus. Oh, how he enjoyed being underestimated. 

 

Suddenly there were hands on his arms dragging him back into the alley while a separate pair covered his mouth, pulled off the cloak, and snatched his wand. 

 

Seriously!? He literally just gloated to himself about his spell work and these assholes have the audacity to take his wand. 

 

Maybe he should pay more attention. Even though the arms, probably followed by bodies, made no sound. Whoever captured him was tall and older going by height and strength and mother fucker!

 

“MMPH” Swear to Merlin, Harry might rip their balls off and shove them down their stupid throats. But he couldn’t use his arms. So he hit the hand over his mouth instead, promptly inspiring his release.

 

“Ouch! Harry!” George cradled his hand and sucked the blood blooming from Harry’s teeth marks. 

 

“The hell guys!?” Harry glared daggers at the both of them and clenched his fists thoroughly wishing he still had his wand. Speaking of. 

 

“ _ Accio wand!”  _ The Holly and Phoenix Feather soared from George’s pocket to Harry’s outstretched band. Wonder if that’s what Thor feels like. 

 

Fred muttered a quiet  _ episkey _ to his brother’s injured hand. The twins, standing a lot taller than Harry, looked at him and unison before Fred turned and headed further down the alley. George watched Harry clearly waiting for him to follow. 

 

With a huff, the smaller boy followed the redhead with George bringing up the rear. Fred stopped in front of a rubbage bin and began to wave his wand around above the lid. 

 

Harry watched with rapt attention as the bin began to violently shake and emit a strange hum. He startled when he felt a hand on the small of his back pushing him forward. 

 

George you arse.

 

Fred, not making the situation better, caught Harry by the arm while he stumbled and dragged him closer to the lid before pulling off the lid. 

 

“Hey uh how bout no?” Harry stuttered and shifted uncomfortably in his grip. The twins are a tad more aggressive then he remembers. Wait that’s not true. They grab him a lot. 

 

He could remember thirteen times in the last month in a half they’ve carted him around. Now that he thinks about it, the twins seem to only carry him. Nobody else.

 

He’s gonna have to ask them about that. But maybe later. Because right now he’s being lifted up by one of them. He can’t tell which. They’re both behind him. 

 

“Hey! Put me down! Seriously!” He should choose his words more carefully next time.

 

“Of course your majesty!” Fred.

 

“Anything for you, Saviour!” George.

 

They let go and he fell. Into the rubbish bin. Like trash. 

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

He knew the exact moment someone left the castle. He could feel the wards shift, his magic twisting in outrage. 

 

The moment they left the grounds his magic wrapped around their core. Whoever it was, they were powerful. Not as he, no. Nor as Dumbledore. 

 

He knew every student and teacher in the school. He had a pretty good idea who snuck out. 

 

Luckily, though in reality luck had little to do with it, his magic will follow them wherever they go.

 

The man, with a nasty smirk, ghosted out of the castle to investigate the little troublemaker. 

 

_ “Mr. Potter.” _

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Harry woke up on the softest couch he had ever felt. So soft he didn’t open his eyes. Or move. He should do both but Great Merlin on a canary it was amazing. At that moment, he decided he was never ever going to leave. The twins would have to drag him away.

 

Oh…

 

Fuck….

 

Reluctantly, Harry opened his eyes and peered around the room. It looked like one of those underground bunker things with thick steel walls and no door. Wait what?

 

Where’s the door at??

 

What the shit!?

 

Harry shot up and flipped around. He looked like a fish out of the water. Literally, he looked like a suffocating fish flopping around on a boat. 

 

He could see the entire room! It was a damn rectangle!

 

“FRED! GEORGE!” Harry grabbed his wand, which was lying on a coffee table, and continued to yell for the twins adding in a spiel of death threats.

 

“Now Harry,” said Fred suddenly apparating into the room.

 

“Is that any way to treat old friends?” George came after his brother, both bore wide smiles.

 

Harry narrowed his eyes and stomped forward. In his mind, this was extremely intimidating as he’d seen Snape do it several times. But apparently, when a dirt-covered, soggy clothed, fucked out hair, barefoot, skinny ass, short dude does it, it’s hilarious. 

 

The twins doubled over in laughter causing Harry to turn bright red. He grabbed the closest thing and hit Fred with it. Luckily, it was a fugly glass vase. 

 

“Agh shit Harry!” The vase shattered and Fred gingerly touched the sore spot on his head. “Can’t believe it didn’t cut me…” 

 

“Woulda served you right kidnapping me like that!” Harry said half-heartedly. His anger dissipating with every passing second. It was always hard to stay mad at the twins. They’re like puppies. They break all your stuff and shit in your shoes but damn do they look cute doing it.

 

Wait.

 

That’s not what he meant.

 

Harry does not think these arseholes are cute. At all. They’re the opposite of cute actually. Uncute.

 

“Kidnapping?” George gasped and genuinely appeared appalled at the notion. He’s a good actor.

 

“Well, I never!” Fred’s voice rose in pitch as he fanned himself with his hand.

 

“Ungrateful little brats these days.” 

 

“Too right you are dear brother.” 

 

“Merlin can we just get on with this!” Harry was ducking tired. He loved these two so much but jeez he sort of needs sleep. Maybe if he sleeps enough it’ll make up for the lack of eating.

 

Or he could just not deal with it. Did you know that ignoring a problem and pretending it’s not there just makes it go away? Harry lived by that.

 

“Patience grasshopper.” George shot him a smirk and ruffled his hair. The redhead cringed and wiped his hand on his shirt. 

 

“All in good time. All in good time.” Fred pinched his cheeks while Harry sighed and slumped his shoulders. Whatever. 

 

“Aww, are you gonna behave now?” He put a finger on Harry’s chin and lifted his head. Turning it side to side, Fred inspected the disheveled state of his hair and the shitastic state of his face. 

 

Maybe the dirt made it better.

 

“He should shower first,” whispered George as he looked the raven-haired boy up and down. Harry shifted under his gaze. He hated that shit. His body under scrutiny was always uncomfortable.

 

Fred hummed in agreement before guiding Harry to a corner in the bunker. Harry thought the bunker looked a lot like the common room with deep reds and golds were thrown about the place. Comfy sofas and chairs. Warm rugs and soft blankets. The lighting was dim and everything seemed to have a warming charm. Harry would move in if there was a fucking door.

 

As they moved closer to the corner, a rod shot out of the wall and curved to rejoin to a wall. A shower spout sprang just below the rod level, aimed downwards where a drain erupted from the floor. Then, to top off the whole shebang, a disgustingly loud purple shower curtain dropped from the rod and hung so low it brushed the floor. 

 

“Ta-Da!” Fred pulled back the curtain and shoved Harry inside. 

 

“Now get scrubbin!” One muttered incantation later and water poured from the spout. Right where he was standing. Fully clothed. 

 

“Just throw your shit out.” Harry assumed that was Fred. Or maybe it was George. He didn’t know.

 

Harry, probably too trusting, stripped under the hot stream of water and chucked his freshly soaked jammies over the curtain. They landed with a splat on the other side. 

 

“Ewww,” said the twins in unison. 

 

“Will I get new clothes when I’m out?” Harry watched the dirt roll off his body with droplets of water. He hoped they gave him clothes. A robe at least. A towel? 

 

“Maybe…” The young Gryffindor could hear their stupid smirks. 

 

After mumbling a few choice words, he used the soap, fell from the ceiling when he asked politely, to clean the gunk from his hair and body. 

 

When he was done, his skin was pink and his dark hair almost covered his eyes. Water made it longer. Cause that’s how water works. 

 

Harry told the spout he was done showering which was the wrong thing to say. Because the spout sucked back into the wall. As well as the drain. And the curtain. And the rod. He spun around, back to the wall, and covered his there most prized possessions. 

 

Thankfully, the bunker was empty. But the twins were kind enough to leave a towel and change of clothes on the couch. Now he just had to get over there. 

 

Just because you can’t see someone doesn’t mean they aren’t there. With one hand in front and one in the back, he shuffled over to the couch and quickly wrapped himself up in the fluffy towel. 

 

FYI the hand in front did not fully cover everything. Harry is tiny from all those years in that damn cupboard but his dick was never restrained in such a way. It was a very normal size thank you very much. 

 

A long stretch of awkward time passed where Harry tried to dry himself without revealing anything before unceremoniously shoving on his clothes. Well, that’s over. As weird as it felt showering here, he was still thankful for it. He smelt a lot better. Cept’ now he’s also more tired. 

 

“Aye yo twins!” Harry preferred to use the word ‘aye’ sparingly and in a certain company only. He didn’t want to sour the experience of shouting it out. It’s one of his favorite words. 

 

Moments later the two redheads popped in with a  _ CRACK  _ side by side behind Harry. Contrary to popular belief he did not scream or shriek or squeal. He yelped. There’s a difference. A very manly difference. 

 

Fred and George, ignoring his verbal attacks, carried him over to the table and threw him in a chair. They both sat across from him and used  _ accio  _ for mugs from a kitchen that wasn’t there before. He got chocolate milk and they got tea. 

 

He’s not fucking five. 

 

He may be as tall as a five-year-old but he’s almost an adult. This is bullshit. But he didn’t complain out loud because….chocolate milk. Best thing since dubstep. 

 

Insert sarcasm sign here. Harry hates dubstep. 

 

He fucking loves chocolate milk.

 

The twins laced their fingers together and placed them on the table like this was a business meeting. Which it might be actually. They exchanged a few glances and silent conversation before turning to Harry. 

 

“So you want to disappear huh?” George, for the first time ever, appeared quite serious. Fred as well. But uh, funny thing, he never told them about that.

 

“You didn’t tell us about that no. But Shithead did.” Wait how the fuck does Shithead know!?

 

“I never told him anything!?” Harry’s voice was louder than what was probably appropriate but are you fucking serious? How did he know?

 

“We know.” Fred.

 

“Shithead overheard you,” George.

 

“Baby brother Ron,” Fred.

 

“And sweet ole Hermione,” George.

 

“Conspiring in the common room.” Fred.

 

Harry facepalmed so hard, his handprint may be permanently etched into the skin of his face. 

 

“What all do you know?” He asked quietly. Praying to a nonexistent god the Golden Trio wasn’t as loud as they’re describing. 

 

The twins shared another look. 

 

“Not much. Only something or another about an old spell to alter your appearance when others look at you without actually having to change your appearance. Hiding in plain sight.”

 

“No offense Harry but you couldn’t cast that spell”

 

“Too advanced.”

 

“What should we have heard?”

 

Harry wished he had a twin. Then he could confuse people with rapid-fire conversation and talk as if both were the same person. What a trip. 

 

“Nothing really…” he mumbled and ran a hand through his hair. “Hermione and Ron don’t really know what’s going on either. They’re on a need to know a basis.”

 

“Well if you want our help,”

 

“You gotta tell us everything.” Fred leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his tea waiting for Harry to launch into an exposition. 

 

The raven-haired boy eyed them both suspiciously internally debating whether he should tell them everything or not. They’d probably know if he lied. The twins have never needed _veritaserum_ to see through his bullshit. 

 

He knew they’d never snitch and they would be extremely helpful. He won’t be able to get the amulet without them. If it even existed. Harry was pretty much putting all his eggs in one basket. He doesn’t have a ton of options. So, with a sigh, he threw back his chocolate milk and told them everything. From the starvation to the cupboard. From Dudley’s attacks to Vernon’s temper. From the bruises to the broken bones. 

 

Harry brought up Dumbledore and his mother and his aunt and the blood wards and everything in between. He left nothing out and the twins listened patiently. Though he did notice their frowns became more pronounced as he continued. All there members, so focused on the conversation, did not notice the faint breeze that wafted around the room. But maybe they should have as there were no windows. And if they were really paying attention to their surroundings, they may have just barely seen the wisp of white glide across the floor to them. And if Harry wasn’t trying to regulate his breathing he may have felt the spell tighten around his ankle and seep into his skin. 

 

But they were. And they didn’t. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aye can you guys let me know if there was too much shoved in this chapter? like is the pace to fast like does it seem like im rushing cuz i do that a lot. just like beat me to death with some criticism or something. harry and i both be trash. we trash together.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is much obliged. This whole fic is one big error. It’s one but spelling mistake. 
> 
> P.S. Bet there’s a shit ton of spelling mistakes.


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